“You say you’re okay, but your skin is cradling your bones too close to the surface. I told you once before that you had sad eyes, but they’re more than sad now.” He held my hands in his. “Talk to me. Tell me how you feel, please. Tell me what’s wrong.”
I pulled my hands from his. I wanted to go back to an hour earlier, when we’d embraced in the sunroom, happy to see one another.
“Maybe I should leave.”
“No!” I lowered my voice. “Let’s go on a walk,” I said. “We can talk.”
I took him to the lighthouse, so maybe he could see what had drawn me to the postcard in the first place. The lighthouse was on a tiny island off the coast, so we could only view it from the opposite shore, but we sat there on a flannel blanket, watching as the waves crashed against the shore.
“This is your favorite place.” It wasn’t a question.
“It’s my favorite place in Maine,” I amended as we leaned back on the blanket. The roar of the waves on the rocks was so loud, but it soothed me in a way that I couldn’t articulate. It was like the storm that bubbled up inside of me, throwing itself repeatedly against what kept it contained.
“Why?”
I knew he wasn’t asking because he didn’t understand; he was asking so he could get insight into who I was. “Because at night, I can watch the stars bathe the sky in a storm of light, and because the light from the lighthouse shines out into the abyss.” I rolled to my side so I faced Jude. “Like it’s searching for something. Waiting for something to shine its light upon.”
Jude hadn’t turned to face me, and I could tell by the clenching of his jaw that he was thinking about something.
“What?”
“I’m thinking I should go back home.”
I was positive that he could’ve said anything else and not shocked me as much as when he said that. “But you just got here.”
“It doesn’t matter when I got here. What matters is you.”
“I want you to stay,” I said earnestly. “At least another day. Let me take you on a walk tomorrow. I bet the weather will be better tomorrow.” I made myself sound more sure than I felt about that.
“Okay,” he agreed, but turned his face back to the sky. It was still hours from pitch-black night sky, so he wouldn’t see with his eyes what this place had made me feel. But he was here, at least another day.
We stayed, watching the lighthouse until the sunset painted the landscape in a kaleidoscope of pinks and yellows, highlighting the rocks as the waves continued to crash against them.
The whole time, we talked about nothing of consequence. It was as if by some silent agreement, we’d decided not to talk about Colin, Mila, or anything else that awaited us in Colorado.
At the inn, we ate dinner under Maura and Charlotte’s curious gazes. My steady, warm Jude returned during the meal as he picked at his lobster like a guy who seemed to understand how to open a lobster better than I did, and he lived in a landlocked state, not on the coast like I did.
“I hate that you’re always better at stuff than I am,” I said, watching as he pulled meat from his lobster shell like he could’ve done it with his eyes closed.
“I’m just that good.” He winked and I felt a little bit of myself go into a gooey puddle in my seat. “Let me help you.”
I tucked my hands under the table on my lap as he took over, easily sliding meat from my crab claws and then dipping it in butter.
“Would it be inappropriate for me to feed this to you?” he asked, and I shook my head immediately, opening my mouth slightly in invitation. One large hand cradled my chin as he brought the crab to my mouth, brushing his thumb against my bottom lip.
I closed my mouth, but held his gaze. He was the Jude I remembered, who looked at me like he was burning from the inside out. He always had that effect, making me feel like I was the only person in his sights.
And as we finished dinner, he grabbed my hand and pulled me from my seat, wordlessly guiding me from the dining room to my room upstairs.
He waited until we were behind my door to push me against the wall and kiss me.
Finally, I thought, opening my mouth to greedily take his lips. He grabbed my waist and squeezed, and I rocked my body against his, wanting to feel him all over me.
We moved from the door to the bed, mouths locked and fingers entwined. I’d missed this so much that I wasn’t willing to let a single part of him move away from me for some time.
His lips moved down my neck, biting and nibbling along my shoulder. It all felt sharper this time, like being away from him for so long had left my skin more sensitive to touch. His fingers trailed the path his lips had made and my eyes closed as he pressed me deeper into the mattress.
When the first tear slipped out of the corner of my eye, it was like the crack that shattered the dam.
My tears were silent as he kissed me all over, like he was imprinting everything he felt for me into my skin. It’d been so long since I’d felt beautiful.
His hands cradled my face and he lifted his face over mine. “Why are you crying?”
“I’m not crying,” I said.
“Liar,” he murmured, swiping a thumb over my cheekbone. “What’s wrong?”
“That’s just it—nothing.” My breath shuddered and for the first time since he arrived in Maine, I felt like I couldn’t get enough air when I was with him. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
He gathered me in his arms and positioned me so that I was in his lap. He rocked me slowly, pressing his lips against my hair. I wanted to believe that he could hold me enough to give me strength, but I didn’t want him to be the reason for my strength.
I closed my eyes as he held me, feeling—for the first time in a long time—safe.
At some point, I must have fallen asleep in his arms because the next thing I knew, Jude was laying me down in the sheets and covering my body with the blanket.
“Don’t go,” I whispered, the room dark. My fingers wrapped around his wrist and squeezed.
“I’m not. I’ll be here.” And he curled up behind me, wrapping an arm around my waist and holding me to his body.
Sometime in the middle of the night, I woke and rolled over so that I faced him. He was completely still, the moonlight sliding in the window and highlighting just above his face onto his pillow. His breathing was even, his brow unfurrowed. He looked so completely relaxed that it was all I could do to not wake him up. I wanted to kiss him, everywhere. To glide my hands over his body, leaving a brand only he could see. He was actually here, in Maine, with me.
As if my thoughts had been too loud, his eyes slowly slid open and he blinked, meeting my gaze.
“Can’t sleep?”
I pressed a hand to his cheek, marveling at the feel of his warm skin in my palm. “I don’t want to.” It could’ve been a dream, that’s how amazing it had felt.
“What are you thinking?”
There was something beautifully intimate about that moment, when we laid beside each other in the dark, our voices whispers and our hands seeking one another. “I’m thinking that this is a dream. That you’re not really here.”
“I could pinch you,” he offered.
Shaking my head, I leaned in and brushed my lips across his. It wasn’t a kiss, not really. It was a nuzzle, but as I came back again the hand he cradled my head with brought me closer so he could kiss me fully.
I tilted my head, my hands going to his warm, bare shoulder. I’d missed the feel of his skin under mine—his juniper scent washing over me.
He climbed over me, pressing me deeper into the mattress. I wanted all of his weight on me, wanted him to wrap me up so deeply in him that I couldn’t leave this time.
I curled my fingertips into his shoulder gently when his lips moved to suck at the skin of my neck. It all felt unbelievable, that he was here, in my bed, kissing me like this.
When his fingers grazed the skin that separated my shirt from my pants, I sat up and helped him take my shirt off. He brushed hi
s hands over my hair as it hung down my back. I reached a hand behind myself and undid my bra clasp before tossing the scrap of fabric across the room.
His hands moved to my waist as I sat, facing him. His eyes never left mine. “You’re so goddamn beautiful, Trista.” He rubbed his fingers along my ribs, back and forth, and I reached to mimic the movement on his abs.
“So are you.” He was. His heavy, soulful eyes were like dark marbles in the shadows of my room. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pushed him so that I was straddling him. I leaned over him, my hair creating a curtain that kept our faces concealed from everything in the room.
I felt his hand glide along my spine gently as he stared up into my face. I was overcome with the urge to kiss his entire face, starting with his jaw line. So I did.
As I kissed his face gently, his hands held my body still. I liked that he couldn’t stop touching me, that his hands roamed my skin like a land unexplored. We’d had so little time to do this before, back in Yellowstone. I realized the last time I’d fallen asleep with him wrapped around me had been in a tent, before my life had imploded.
Jude gently pushed me so that I laid back on the bed and he slowly stripped my pants down my legs with one hand as his other squeezed the skin that was exposed with each inch.
When he leaned over me again, he brushed his mouth against mine like I’d done to him just as his fingers touched me between my legs. The sensation of him touching me caused me to squeeze his biceps tighter, digging my nails a little into his skin. Over and over, he grazed his fingers along my center before I whispered his name, urgency clear in my voice.
He stepped away from the bed for a moment and I watched in the light of the moon as he slid a condom over himself. I rolled to my stomach and crawled across the bed. As soon as I was at the edge of the bed, his hands reached for mine and he squeezed as he laid me back and slid slowly inside of me. He was frozen for a moment, both of us just staring at each other, before he continued.
My body matched his in rhythm, arching with each thrust, and it’d been so long for me that I climbed quickly. I watched as Jude’s breathing became more ragged with each thrust and my hand found his chest, feeling his heart beat beneath my palm when he lowered himself inches from me.
He leaned forward, and I wanted to tell him I loved him then. But heat was spreading quickly and my body was shaking right before I closed my eyes and slipped over the edge.
Jude was seconds behind me, his thrusts faster and his breathing harsher, and he made a noise in the back of his throat that made me wrap my legs around his waist as his pace faltered and he came to a rest above me.
He was bracing himself on his forearms, so that his weight wasn’t putting pressure on me. But I wanted it—all his weight pressing into me. He was still inside me, and I wasn’t eager for him to roll off of me.
I turned my head to the left, where his face was pressed against my neck. “You okay?” I asked, feeling his heart beating fast against my skin.
“More than,” he said, but his words were muffled. Slowly he lifted his body from where he partially laid on top of me, pressing a kiss to my nose.
When he pulled out of me, I closed my eyes. I was bone-deep tired, but felt somehow fulfilled. Jude squeezed my thigh before he walked into the bathroom and shut the door.
Suddenly, my stomach felt uncomfortably full. I’d become accustomed to purging soon after a meal, but this time I’d fallen asleep. I needed to puke, and soon.
I slid one of my oversized t-shirts on over my head and stepped in the bathroom when Jude stepped out. Before I could close the door, Jude hooked an arm around my waist and leaned down, kissing me fully on the mouth. The arm around my waist squeezed and I wanted nothing more than to squeeze back, to curl up against him and live the dream I’d fantasized about for nearly a year.
Waiting until he was in the bed, far enough from the door to hear anything, I turned on the faucet to its loudest level.
And then I bent over the toilet and shoved a finger down my throat. After purging, I took a small bit of pleasure in how empty I felt. It was a welcome comfort, though it was no match to the comfort Jude had provided me just by showing up. I washed my hands and thoroughly brushed my teeth, making sure my hair was brushed and clean.
After flossing and gargling mouthwash, I returned to the bedroom where Jude was waiting for me in the bed. As I stepped closer, he reached forward with his hands and pulled me to him.
His mouth covered mine before he pulled back. “You brushed your teeth?” he asked, searching my face. I was thankful for the dark.
I nodded. “I couldn’t stand the lingering taste of seafood in my mouth,” I explained as I crawled into the bed.
My hand reached for his under the covers and I squeezed. I thought I might be able to drift asleep immediately, but I couldn’t. I turned to look over my shoulder. “Can you cuddle with me?”
Without saying anything, he slid across the space between us and pulled me up against his front, letting his arm fall over the curve of my waist. Only then did I fall into a deep, deep sleep.
The next day, I woke early and fixed the problem with the inn’s website before taking Jude on a walking tour of the town as we headed out to the rocky shore I favored. He held my hand the whole time as I pointed things out to him along the way, and I found myself leaning into him as much as possible. It was surreal, having him here with me as I showed him where I’d been living for nearly a year. When we stopped for ice cream, Jude fed me a bite of his Rocky Road flavor under a bright yellow and white striped umbrella.
“Do you like it here?” he asked, taking in the beach and the people that filtered down the sidewalk.
“I like it enough.” I met his eyes briefly before turning to my own cone, a cotton candy concoction. “Why?”
He sighed and swiped a napkin over his mouth. “I just want you happy, Trista. I know we have a lot to talk about—”
“I don’t want to talk about all that,” I interrupted. I didn’t want to ruin this moment with talk of yesterday. “We can talk about everything later.”
He blinked a few times. “We can’t keep putting it off,” he said. “I—”
“No.” My voice was firmer that time. I didn’t want this, to cast a shadow over our time. “I’m serious. We can talk later.”
He sighed again, and I could tell he was unhappy. “What can we talk about?”
“The beach.” I lifted my head to the ocean, which roared in the distance. The air was salty today, which signaled summer coming soon.
“Do you want to come back to Colorado?”
What a loaded question. There was no question that I wanted to go back to Colorado. But I didn’t think they were for the right reasons. I finished the last of my ice cream cone and then sucked down some water from the bottle Jude had bought me. “That’s a complicated question.”
“It’s really not.” He looked at me as he picked up our discarded napkins. “Yes or no questions require just one of those words in answer.”
Swallowing, I tore my gaze away from him. “I do. Of course I do. But I don’t think I should.”
“Okay,” he said, but I knew the conversation was far from over. “What have you been doing since you left? What kinds of things are you doing outside of the inn?”
Shrugging, I admitted, “Well, not a lot.” I didn’t meet his eyes. “It was cold, and the inn keeps me busy.”
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
The question was so out of left field that it shocked me. I turned to him and said, “No!” I may have said it more dramatically than I needed to, but I wanted to make sure he knew how absurd the question was.
But not absurd enough for me not to want an answer, too. But I was too much of a coward to ask.
“Well, what are you doing with your free time then?”
I wanted to tell him about my poetry, but it was so personal to me, especially since most of the words I wrote were for him. “Not a lot.”
“Trista,” h
e began, reaching for my hands across the table. “What can I do for you? I came here, to see you. To see what’s going on, what’s keeping you here instead of Colorado.” He shook his head and I watched as his brown eyes looked almost pleading. “I don’t want to pressure you. But I want to know what you’re doing. So I know what we’re doing.”
My hands went limp in his. “I don’t know.” It was honest, but it was flimsy. “I really don’t know.” I wasn’t sure if it was the conversation or the fact that I’d just eaten more ice cream than I normally did in one sitting, but I suddenly had the urge to barf up my ice cream. “I’ll be right back,” I promised, grabbing my bag off the back of a chair and stepping into the ladies room at the back of the ice cream parlor.
I didn’t feel as good this time after vomiting. Instead, I felt like I was trying to purge myself of the feelings that had nestled within me at Jude’s questioning. I pressed my finger to the back of my throat over and over, until I was just a shaky mess on the bathroom floor.
Once again, I thoroughly brushed my teeth with the travel-sized toothbrush I brought with me and shoved two pieces of gum into my mouth before returning to where Jude waited for me.
“You alright?” he asked, his brow furrowed and his eyes searching.
Nodding, I hooked my arm in his and led him back in the direction of the inn. Because it wasn’t my day off, I couldn’t spend the whole time gallivanting with Jude around Maine.
I showed him to the main recreation room as I quickly began cleaning rooms, with Claire’s help. She tried pressing me for information about Jude, but I kept my lips zipped as I tried to hurry us along so that I could join him sooner.
When I was finished, I poked my head in the rec room. He was asleep on the leather recliner, so I curled up on his lap, waking him.
“Hmm,” he hummed, lifting his arms to wrap around me. “Sorry I fell asleep.”
I pressed a kiss to the short beard that climbed along his jaw line. “Sorry I wasn’t here to entertain you.”
“It’s okay; you are now.” His arms tightened and I didn’t want to move an inch from that recliner, but I knew I needed to. Maura wouldn’t be too impressed, seeing one of her employees curled up the way I was in the rec room. He let out a sigh and said, “I’m starving. Want to get lunch?”
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